Series: Four Lives, One Last Chance - A Year In Drug Court: Part 27 Of 41

ACT IV. VERNON: 'HE NEEDS ALL THE HELP HE CAN GET'

Vernon is gone.

The man whose presence commanded every room, whose banter and wit dominated
every conversation, is gone.

An angry Judge Conway has booted him from Drug Court.

The excruciating courtroom scene, which ended with Vernon being hauled off
to jail, has sent shock waves through the other addicts. The woman who
follows Vernon on the court docket is still crying when she stands before
the judge.

"That shook me up," she says when she sits down.

When court ends, they all gather outside on the sidewalk, divvying up their
cigarettes as they talk about what happened to Vernon. Robert analyzes the
events as if they had been inevitable.

"I told him - that Chicago attitude don't work in Newport News," he says.
"He called me an old man, said I was diseased. He said he wouldn't kiss
their asses and I was kissing their asses."

Back at the Drug Court offices, Darlena stands outside along the brick wall
with reddening eyes, silently rocking back and forth on her heels. Linda,
puffing on a cigarette, cries and thunders at Vernon's fate.

"How many times are they gonna put that boy through this?" she asks. "He
struggled hard not to go back to the street life."

In the past, she has complained that the program can be too inflexible. Now
she wonders how they could send a man to jail who hasn't used drugs for
more than nine months.

"He gets one step ahead and they take him two steps back," she says.

Inside the building, a steady line of troubled peers gather outside the
counselors' offices. They all want to discuss the morning's troubling
events. So the therapists abandon their normal routine, allowing the
addicts to congregate around the large table in one of the upstairs rooms
to talk about Vernon.

Whether he irritated them or entertained them, made them curse or made them
laugh, everyone has an opinion about Vernon. There are those who say he
brought this on himself and those who say he needed more help.

As they talk, the same themes continue to arise. They agree that Vernon is
full of pain, a pain that he tried to hide with his humor. They agree that
he is somehow different - intelligent, full of potential, endlessly
complicated. And, most of them agree, he shouldn't be in jail.

The group decides to craft a letter to the judge, urging him to give Vernon
a second chance.

Jennifer takes pen in hand at the head of the table.

"He needs all the help he can get," she says. "He needs some structure and
discipline. He don't need to be revoked, sitting up in jail."

Antoinette leads the less-sympathetic voices. She wonders why the group is
so torn by Vernon's fate when no one offered to draft a letter for Aaron,
another client who had been thrown out of the program.

"I don't care," Jennifer says. "This man was clean. We got to give him the
benefit of the doubt."

But what Antoinette remembers most is Vernon's constant posturing. Just the
day before, she says, he was telling anyone who would listen that he
wouldn't open a savings account, that he wouldn't pay "no damn court fines"
- - two of the program's requirements.

"With that negative attitude," she says, "no wonder he got locked up."

Other voices, however, recall Vernon with a more wistful air, and they
begin to win over his detractors.

"He has irritated the crap out of me, but he is so smart," Trina says.
"When he's been clean for 229 days, he's got potential."

"Other people are phony," Quinten adds. "He's not. He just couldn't contain
his emotions."

Jennifer scribbles along, as the group tries to assess what went wrong.
Could they have supported him more? Could the program have done more?
Should Vernon have been given a stronger warning before being revoked?
Should the program have adapted to someone so enigmatic?

"I don't know what to say about Vernon," Antoinette says finally.

"But I don't want him to be in jail."

As Jennifer puts the finishing touches on the letter, Antoinette walks over
to the table.

She signs her name first, at the top of the page.